


A Very Targaryen Dinner Party

by tempisfugit



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Crack, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dysfunctional Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-22
Updated: 2012-09-22
Packaged: 2017-11-14 19:41:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/518832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tempisfugit/pseuds/tempisfugit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Holidays at the Targaryen household, complete with Rhaegar's now not-so-secret second family, Elia and kids, a crazy Aerys, a snarky Jon Snow, and a terrified Sam Tarly.  How will Dany survive?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Very Targaryen Dinner Party

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a Targaryen group project centered around food - very different from my previous stuff (AU! modern! dialogue!!), so please be kind.

"Mom's hitting the sauce again," Nyssa said, as she flopped into the oversized chair. "As soon as Dad walked in, she made a mad dash for the bar."

"He didn't bring that new wife of his, did he? The Stark woman?"

Nyssa said nothing, just raised her eyebrows and began ripping a piece of Irri's olive bread into tiny chunks. Dany took that as confirmation.

She took a deep swill of her drink (Dr. Pepper with a splash of Jack. Viserys had snuck it to her, the "Pepper Jack" his latest in a long line of desperate concoctions developed specifically for family parties), trying to think of a response. Her sister-in-law was the closest thing to a mother she'd ever had, and Elia was so nice, so good, that she just couldn't understand why someone would want to cause her pain.

Nyssa spoke before she could answer.

"It gets worse. She brought the son."

"Jon? Well, shit. He's the last person any of us want here."

Nyssa nodded, her purple eyes swimming with tears. She moved to sit on the arm of the chair, stroking the girl's dark hair with her free hand. It was odd, Dany thought, that Rhaenys was technically her niece even though she was years older – but then, Dany had always been wiser than her age. Growing up with one crazy brother and a crazier father could have that effect, and Rhaegar's latest actions had seriously upped his own crazy quotient.

She had never really thought of him as a brother; the gap in their ages made him more like an uncle, the father of her best friend. He called on her birthday, but otherwise she had no contact with him, and, as the VP of the family business, he was constantly out of the country.

At least, they had thought he was. As it happened, he'd been off cavorting with that Stark woman at some vacation house in Dorne, living a secret life. There had been rumors for years, Dany knew – some commotion at a party over misaddressed flowers, late-night calls, a scandalous e-mail chain – but it wasn't until they were sent visual proof from a rival company that they knew for sure. Leave it to the Lannisters to take advantage of the situation and kill two birds with one stone. Rhaegar had moved out that day, leaving a devastated Elia and news of a third child in his wake. She'd known him as Jon Snow, an orphaned classmate taken in by the Starks, one of her best friends in school. _That_ revelation had really pissed her off – she hadn't spoken to father or son for years.

She had met Lyanna Stark once, at some big shindig that the Tyrrells had thrown. Dany had to admit that she was beautiful, and she seemed fun, in a rather wicked sort of way – though she would never admit that to Nyssa. There was something about those grey eyes of hers that seemed to sparkle mischievously, and she had the distinct impression that the woman was silently mocking everyone she met, sizing them up only to tear them down. Dany could respect that (she did it, after all, especially whenever she met a Tully, those people were just _too_ nice), but it was another story when that judgmental eye was turned on her family.

Whatever. The woman was from some little village up north. Yeah, sure, she came from one of the oldest families in the country, but they'd had their fair share of scandals – the older brother and father dying in that mysterious murder-suicide-arson affair, that stern, frowning one marrying his brother's widow in such a hurry, and all of those nephews and nieces, with their uncouth manners and fierce pets. The oldest one had run off with one of Dany's mates from school, a little thing who was nice enough, but plain as an old shoe with a trashy family in tow. It had been quite the shocking news item, though it hadn't done anything to wipe her family's escapades from the gossip pages.

"Guys, you have to come see the level I'm up to now. It's wicked cool and–"

Aegon stumbled into the room, eyes bleary from hours of video games. His voice trailed off as he saw Nyssa's tear-stained face and he slowly backed out of the room in panic mode. He had been closest with his father, the one least affected by the betrayal, the only one of the family to remain on friendly terms with his half-brother. Dany shook her head as he made his awkward exit. He was a nice enough kid but, really, no backbone to speak of. Viserys was terrified that the company would pass to Aegon instead of him, but she doubted it; he lacked a killer instinct, the lions would devour him for breakfast. But then, she doubted it would pass to Viserys, either. The employees hated him already, and he could barely function in normal society, let alone run a multibillion-dollar empire. All she had to do was play her cards right, score a good internship during grad school, and it was hers for the taking.

"Dinner!" Aerys (she hadn't called him Dad since she was thirteen, part of a youthful rebellion that, to her family's frustration, had stuck) crowed from downstairs like a rooster, his thin voice strained and high as it echoed through the hallway.

With a shuddering sob, Nyssa rose, wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her dress. She had taken her mother's motto to heart and, ever the proper lady, allowed no one to see her tears – only Dany saw her bowed and bent and broken by this.

-

The Targaryen dining room table was a relic, brought over by some immigrant ancestor decades – centuries – ago and stained with years of wine and food. It was covered in scratches that Dany liked to pretend were from some uncivilized great-great-grandfather who had eaten with his dagger, and there was a large scorched mark at the head that Aerys said was the work of a dragon.

He was constantly going on about dragons. Since her mother had died, he'd become even crazier, rambling about the ancient history of the noble house of Targaryen. For one entire year he had refused to respond unless he was addressed as "the blood of the dragon." Viserys had copied him, trying to impress his father, but he just came off even more petulant than usual.

The sound of a fork against a glass interrupted her thoughts, and she looked up to see her brother – the slightly saner one – standing with a beatific smile on his face. Great. A toast. Rhaegar was one for pomp and circumstance and, given his rather lofty view of his own eloquence, his toasts went on forever. Happily, it didn't look like he had brought his harp with him this time. At one wedding he had composed a song to accompany his speech, and while the happy couple (and the rest of the guests) had been overjoyed, to Dany it was worse than Aerys' far-too-long nails against a chalkboard.

"Family, friends, loved ones, this holiday – the first we have spent together in years – is a chance for us to celebrate and give thanks. And, indeed, there is much to be thankful for. I am thankful to be sharing this day with all of those I call family, my dear father, my siblings, my beautiful wife, and my children."

Elia had turned a deathly shade of white and Dany thought she could feel her shaking from the other end of the room. She knew that, under the table, Nyssa was probably clutching desperately at her mother's hand, but you couldn't tell from the courtly smile she had plastered on her face. Her brothers, despite their intelligence, really could be so stupid. Rhaegar, who could predict market trends with freaky accuracy, couldn't read people one bit, and she knew that one day it would mean the death of him.

He continued, moving on to give thanks for the bountiful food, the strength of the business, the continued success of the Targaryen dynasty, and Dany tuned him out, pushing salad around her plate. Rhaegar loved dramatic tales and he launched into some anecdote about a prophesy, a prince, and fiery ice. Pure rubbish. She sighed; the meatballs were probably getting cold, and they were so good when hot, grilled in foil until they were juicy, crispy, and slightly rare.

Lyanna interrupted, raising her glass with a murmured "to family," and Dany thought she might hug this wretched step-sister-in-law, thankful that his speech had been cut off at the five-minute mark. He had some nerve, after all the problems he had caused, preaching about family, unity, and love. She speared a meatball viciously as she mumbled in a mocking voice, "you're going to wake the dragon."

"Excuse me?" asked a low voice to her left. She turned, pausing in the act of moving her fork into her mouth. She had tried to forget that he was sitting next to her, had hoped that her cold demeanor would ward off any of his attempts at conversation. Jon. Honestly. What a terrible, un-Targaryen name it was, but then, he was no true Targaryen, with his dark hair and grey eyes.

Dany stared at him with a harsh, unforgiving expression as she catalogued his many faults. His hair was long and messy and his face was sullen, as though he was in a perpetual bad mood. It seemed like another lifetime when they had been friends, playing at knights and princesses, exchanging shy kisses on the playground, and cutting class to see the latest sci-fi flick. She swallowed and smiled at him cruelly, baring her teeth like fangs.

"You heard me. You don't want to wake the dragon. You won't like what happens when you wake the dragon."

With that, she faced forward and reached for her glass, sipping daintily at her water like a queen.

He chuckled, but she ignored it, catching Nyssa's attention across the table. He took her hand in his, and she drew in a hasty breath, trying to remain calm as she looked at him. His face – so sullen and sad moments ago – was transformed by his laughter, and his eyes sparkled intelligently, mischievously, at her. Eyes that had seemed pure grey now had a hint of purple, like pebbles on the beach.

"Oh Dany, I think you forget who I am," he said quietly, caressing the words like he might a lover (she snorted at that. Jon, a lover, hah). "I am half dragon, half wolf, and frightened of neither. I know you better than anyone, and you do not scare me."

She snarled, ripping her hand from his forcefully, breaking her glass and sending water all over the table. The room fell silent as everyone turned to stare at her. Nyssa's eyes were wide, and Dany tried to summon some of her control as she stood, reaching for her plate. With a fluid movement, she upturned it, raining meatballs on his head.

His laughter echoed as she stormed out of the large dining room.

-

After several cigarettes and a long call with her best friend, she returned. If Margaery had been here tonight she would have known exactly what to say. The clever girl had a way with words. Dany had never seen someone so vicious and yet diplomatic in her insults; most of her victims couldn't even tell if they were being pitied, complimented, or humiliated. Margaery had insisted that it wasn't worth her getting upset over – and that no amount of witty retorts would get him back – and thus Dany walked calmly into the room and took her seat, turning to her uncle and asking him, with a dazzling smile, to introduce his guest.

Aemon, never one for her games, sighed and turned back to the book perched against his wine glass. He had brought some doctoral student with him this year, some fat kid that couldn't even look at her let alone work up the courage to interact with her raucous family. Dany kept forgetting his name, though she'd heard it a dozen times already. Sal? Tom? Something short and insignificant and utterly lacking in creativity, just like that bastard of a nephew with his sparkly eyes and sultry voice. Sam, that was it.

"Sam," she purred. "I'd love to hear more about your research. Uncle Aemon has told us so much about that _wonderful_ progress you're making on the biological impacts of climate change. You must be ever so clever. And that study on frost reanimating dead flesh? That was fascinating. However did you think of that?"

He stuttered and flushed bright red, looking back and forth between her and Jon. She knew, as did everyone at the table, that Jon was the clever one, the genius that was singlehandedly behind the success of Mormont Industries, but she wasn't about to give him that satisfaction. Besides, it was rather enjoyable to see Sam squirm uncomfortably under her gaze.

Her conversation was interrupted as Irri and Jhiqui brought out dessert: overflowing platters of star fruit, Arbor grapes as purple as her eyes, fresh lemons, and dragon fruit. More Dothraki servants emerged from the kitchen, carrying the _piece de resistance_ between them, a large cake shaped like an anatomically correct heart, with veins and arteries carefully painted in red icing. It was a Dothraki tradition that had, at Aerys' command, become a dessert staple at holiday dinners.

He stabbed at it with a mad flourish, dissecting it into slices like a vicious surgeon, the gooey center oozing out. A flash of disgust crossed Lyanna Stark's face, and Dany smirked at her sign of weakness; only the fiercest warriors could stomach the heart. Well, that was true of the actual heart, Dany knew, but she had to think that squeamishness at a baked replica reflected a certain lack of character. She couldn't wait to try the real thing for herself on her first trip to Essos. Irri passed her a piece – the aorta, her favorite – and she grabbed a fork, eager to tuck in since she'd missed the main course.

She glanced sideways at Jon; he hadn't looked at her since her return, distracted by some redhead girl sitting next to him with a big laugh and even bigger teeth. Unlike his mother, he was eating his heart cake with gusto. Sensing her eyes on him, he turned and smiled, his hand extended in an offer of truce. She shrugged. This battle wasn't worth it, really; she'd just save her vitriol for the next time they met on campus. She shook his hand and he drew her close, whispering at her ear.

"There's one thing you didn't think of, my dear Aunt Dany. Maybe I _want_ to wake the dragon."

At the corner of her vision, she saw Nyssa pointing at something emphatically. She saw Lyanna Stark dejectedly resting her head in her hands. She saw Aerys and Viserys cackling at something, and Rhaegar frowning like some monk.

And she didn't see the handful of heart cake in Jon's other hand as it flew straight at her face.


End file.
